


The Lovers Card

by UnholyPlumpPrincess



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Husbands, M/M, Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Power Bottom, Taunting just to make someone sexually frustrated, The Doctor's zappies used in sexual ways, blood mention, mild degrading, shock kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24330910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyPlumpPrincess/pseuds/UnholyPlumpPrincess
Summary: A gold band rests on the killer’s left ring finger and he feels his heart pick up in speed, but not from fear.His heart does something odd, lurching in his chest as his fingers shake. The Doctor seems at a pause too, fingers clutched tight around the electric spear in his hand. He cocks his head to look at Mitch better, eyes flickering over his frame looking like mini fireflies with how bright they are, and even with the headgear Mitch can see his eyebrows try to furrow.“Herman-” Mitch breathes out, outstretching a hand and reaching for his face. Immediately his wrist is snatched by the Doctor’s free hand, but not hard enough to hurt, just stopping him from touching. The electricity doesn’t even hurt, feeling like a pleasant tingle as static clings to his skin.The hand snatched is taken closer to the Doctor’s face for closer inspection. Hypnotically bright eyes land on the gold band and Mitch watches as his head cocks, glancing back to Mitch’s face, then back to the band.
Relationships: Herman Carter | The Doctor/Original Character(s), Herman Carter | The Doctor/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 58





	The Lovers Card

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna send me requests or otherwise, check out my tumblr @Sinningplumpprincess

The Entity’s realm was not for lovers.

Positive emotions here were built upon hope and a dream, a dream that would be crushed under the spider-like limbs with a haunting, twelve people sounding laugh. The Entity did not allow its play things any positivity lest it wished to destroy it. At least, that’s what most survivors would tell you. The ones who had hoped that even in a realm such as this, that their obsessive killers would  no longer be a threat over their head.

For Mitch, he had listened to those survivors tell their stories at the campfire when he had entered. They all sounded frightened, stressed, tired. Being one of the former lead doctors at a psychiatric institution, he made quick assumptions of their relations with each one.

Laurie swore no relation to the monster who had chased her since she was merely a girl. Yet, there was something hesitant in the way she spoke, a wobble to her lips as if somewhere in the back of her mind she KNEW who this man was that followed her. Mitch assumed that he must have been family, or a family friend, but perhaps one she was not close with nor knew. Yet, the blood still ran deep. He quickly could guess PTSD, anxiety disorder, and clinical depression. Yet, how curious was her loud, fighting spirit? Her need to survive and see him destroyed outweighing her need to lie belly up and die.

Quentin looked stressed at even any word beginning with the letter F. As if you would say a certain word or a name, and a boogeyman would come jumping out. He confided that he didn’t sleep, wringing his hands and eyes looking everywhere but Mitch as he talked about the dream killer. As if in a realm such as this, that was something funny to believe in. A child’s story.

Mitch had hummed to show he was listening as he idly wrote in his journal. PTSD, high case of paranoia, insomniac, and clinical depression. Yet, what kept him going when it looked like he just wanted to drop and let himself get the end of a sharp weapon to his throat?

For Mitch, he too had his own obsession. But, unlike in the way these two seemed to be. They were stressed to even think of the ones who obsessed over them, and yet, Mitch could only obsess over this...’Doctor’ they kept discussing. A killer in these very realms said to be one of the most ruthless.

Feng had come to this realm, born in electricity and the high levels of static echoing throughout white walls and a haunting laugh. She tells Mitch this with a shrug, as if running her own killer had been a piece of cake. However, something catches Mitch off guard. Something that shouldn’t have been something too big a deal- but it’s the way she described her surroundings.

White walls. A hospital with an eerie feeling. Different levels now overgrown with plant life and the ceilings busted open. Flickering lights. A big open room with various televisions. The gates being huge and eerie and with two ways out. A library on one side, an office on the other with old books and a record player-

It’s all too perfect. So, Mitch had nonchalantly asked if she’d caught a plaque with a name on it. Something to tell what the hospital was possibly called?

When the words: ‘Lery’s memorial’ pass her lips, Mitch lets the first positive emotion flood his body. Of feelings that would disgust the Entity.

Of hope.

Of nostalgia.

Of...love.

Mitch had yet to come into any contact with both that place as well as the killer known among the survivors as ‘The Doctor’. Everything had been far too perfect thus  far; Everything fell into place just right. And if...and if it was Herman? Where had he gone? Who had taken him? Was it the same being that had come to Mitch in his dreams and scooped him away into the deadly fog?

They both were not even the slightest innocents. In life, Mitch had matched wits, banter, and intellect with the doctor, which caused Herman to gain interest in the younger.

Herman Carter was a man who had a fascination with both science and psychiatrics- mostly dealing with the n eurological system  and the questions such as: Why do we all think? Why is the brain so active in certain lobes? He was known among colleagues to be cold and clinical, or almost mad in a way. He was very persuasive and was known as the smartest man in the room, but didn’t have a lot of friends.

Mitch had come to the institute as a new and upcoming doctor. Unlike Herman who had all his life been fascinated by the brain, with all the neuroscience that came with it, as well as knowing all his life that he would succeed. Mitch had led a different life. Struggling to get into college due to the costs and taking back alley jobs.

Herman had intimidated Mitch at first. He couldn’t lie about that. He stood just as tall as he did, rich dark brown skin, signs of aging on his face but with grace. His voice was smooth and deep, always sounding refined and clinical when he spoke. His smile was one that stretched all the way to his deep black eyes, framed with crow’s feet that hinted that he grinned and laughed quite often.

His stature and physique were intimidating, imposing, yet as time went on Mitch learned that he kind of...liked that. Besides, he wasn’t bad once you got to know him- a little off the hinges, sure, but nothing that was too much for Mitch. In fact, you could say they were a perfect match.

Mitch, in turn, must have looked like a plain Jane up next to him. At least in Mitch’s eyes.

Similar in height with black curls coming down to his shoulder always pulled up and out of the way in a ponytail and standing out against his peachy skin tone. His own voice was thickened with a Russian accent, his own verbal ticks leading to him tumbling over a few English words.

Large lensed glasses cover his hazel eyes, his lashes thick and eye shape kind and softly shaped. His usual outfit even stood out in comparison to Herman’s nice suits. Mitch normally wore something akin to a collared mustard yellow shirt with a little brown tie. An earth toned sweater vest thrown over and some nice dress slacks and shoes with his doctor’s coat. Something he currently wore in the trials as well.

The hospital they had worked had been no place for romance. Neither had Herman been looking for anything of the sort. And yet, something blossomed between the two. 

Mitch was a rather forward person once Herman got to know him. Once was a man who spoke in small talk and niceties, now became more assertive in his wants. To the point on one long night, he’d taken a drink from his cup of coffee, leaning on the counter and told Herman truthfully that he wanted to see him outside the clinic one of these times. Herman had been a bit taken back, he’d admit, normally people beat around the bush or thought him as rather ‘off the rails’. 

But all he could see from Mitch was honesty past his thick lashes as he took another drink of his coffee with a soft hum in his throat as he waited for the reply from Herman. Seeming unaffected if he would accept or deny him. And well, Herman could admit, both his intellect and appearance were very attractive. Not to mention his confidence in challenging someone such as himself.

In the end, Herman had accepted. No guilt in his body, as if  somehow, he knew that in the future that if Mitch caught onto the more...elaborate experiments he was conducting. That well...

Well...Mitch wouldn’t be too innocent himself in that event. Always such an eager dog to follow.

By the time Herman is taken into custody and offered a job under the name AWAKENING, he knows no one better than he’d want at his side for the job than his former partner and his now current husband. Convincing the higher ups isn’t a problem, not when he’s their best interrogator on the scene. And being able to watch Mitch methodically take people apart on the job? Now that was just a bonus. A delicious, delicious bonus.

Mitch had found himself following deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole. Anywhere Herman went, he followed. If Herman said they were going underground to an institute called ‘ Lery’s Memorial’ for more experimentation to be conducted, that’s where he followed. If Herman said that Mitch was to help him figure out the fundamentals of electroshock therapy on an exposed brain to figure out mind control methods? Then, well. Mitch followed.

Yet, even in the darkest of moments, they could find a home in the other. Another worldly couple of Bonnie and Clyde. At their jobs, they were the best of the worst. And at home, Herman would hold Mitch in his arms as they swayed in the kitchen and murmured sweet nothings to one another. Forehead to forehead, fingers laced, an everyday looking couple. Gold ring bands to match and all.

No. The Entity’s realm? It was truly not made for lovers. It tried its hardest to keep the positive out. Even if that said couple was a quietly infamous couple.

And yet, this begged the question. What if a survivor, was just as willing and able to give the pain as a killer was?

What if Mitch’s theories were right and his beloved was seen as more of a nightmare than himself? If this is where Herman had disappeared to so long ago?

Time would only tell.

\--

Mitch learns the realms rather quickly. Taking to sketching them in his notebook in his book with the killer that was found there. He finds repetitions of these killers exist in different realms, so it didn’t seem that they would stay in their own designated ‘area’, but merely whatever the Entity picked.

In the same way, the survivors are picked seemingly at random. Though, Mitch finds that if it is someone such as the Shape, that Laurie will always be involved. Similarly, if it is the Nightmare, Quentin will be involved. It...

It almost makes him give up his theory. Figuring it was perhaps just his hope keeping that feeling alive. Wouldn’t it have made sense for the Entity to pair them up? Wouldn’t it be something to agonize over? Wasn’t that a goal of the Entity’s, to cause as much pain as possible?

It’s something he mulls over while he plays with his wedding band one day, looking at the glittering gold with a soft sigh passing his lips. Of longing or frustration, not even he’s entirely sure.

As far as he knew in the mortal realm, Herman had been taken from the institute by police where they discovered Mr. Stamper. Where his head was cracked open and electrodes and prods were inserted into a still, very much working brain. His research papers had been left, but he’d been...just gone.

And then, just like this, Mitch was here. With a realm matching the description to a T. A realm he’d yet to be in, and a killer he’d yet to see.

But then. One day. It happens.

When Mitch awakens, he finds himself no longer in the warmed bed in the cabin of their camp. He finds himself blinking himself awake to the entrance of a building with two  wide , swung open doors. Overgrowth enters the building with tufts of grass, leading into blindingly white walls, white floors, hospital beds, flickering televisions hung on the walls...

‘ Lery’s memorial’ reads the plaque outside said doors. Mitch finds that small bit of hope flickering into his system at the sight. Of course, he had learned from the other survivors, that these realms were also based on areas they’d had immense trauma in. Such as Laurie with her old neighborhood, or Quentin with the preschool grounds. So maybe...maybe this is just where the Entity took his own memories and made them into something painful to look at.

Grounding himself, Mitch finds himself going around familiar corridors and finding the place to be near exactly as remembered. Just vacated of patients, experiments, and of course it being now run down. But he tries to ignore the nostalgia as he finds a generator and begins getting to work on it with a few small tugs of the wires.

It’s when the sound of a fellow survivor getting shocked with a haunting, chilling yet familiar laugh does Mitch shoot up. Forgetting his position at the generator as it cracks with its own shock from being suddenly jolted. It would alert his position. And maybe that’s what he wants.

The familiar sound of thrumming in his ears and the feeling of his hair standing on end makes Mitch move around the corner to GREET the killer, near frantic with the need to know. It was all on a hunch, a theory. But if he was right, if he could see Herman again, if he would even recognize his own husband after so long locked up here to play a game by a creature yet unseen-

He near bumps right into the killer. Standing just about as tall as Mitch does. His unblinking gaze and a grin stretched across his face being of a familiar retainer to keep a patient’s facial parts open for no natural reflexes to get in the way. He recognizes it instantly; It had been one of Herman’s favorites to keep his patients from becoming too rowdy.

This killer’s skin is paler than the rich, dark tone he’d been familiar with. Now almost ashy and dead. Electricity shoots up  bare arms, the doctor’s coat’s arms ripped off- or singed off from the very electricity running through his veins. Blood splatters his coat, dried over his cheeks, eyes wide open and seemingly full of electricity themselves in how they glow. Mitch’s eyes fall to his left hand, almost frantic with the need to know.

A gold band rests on the killer’s left ring finger and he feels his heart pick up in speed, but not from fear.

His heart does something odd, lurching in his chest as his fingers shake. The Doctor seems at a pause too, fingers clutched tight around the electric spear in his hand. He cocks his head to look at Mitch better, eyes flickering over his frame looking like mini fireflies with how bright they are, and even with the headgear Mitch can see his eyebrows try to furrow.

“Herman-” Mitch breathes out, outstretching a hand and reaching for his face. Immediately his wrist is snatched by the Doctor’s free hand, but not hard enough to hurt, just stopping him from touching. The electricity doesn’t even hurt, feeling like a pleasant tingle as static clings to his skin.

The hand snatched is taken closer to the Doctor’s face for closer inspection. Hypnotically bright eyes land on the gold band and Mitch watches as his head cocks, glancing back to Mitch’s face, then back to the band.

A small shock is sent through Mitch’s frame and a gasp is sent through him as he watches his vision turn almost blindingly blue briefly. Almost...almost hallucinations swarming his visions of memories. Of arms wrapped around him from behind in the lounge room, of Herman slicing up vegetables in the kitchen, mundane tasks all leading to the last one of Herman. Black and orange fog surrounding him in a room with a severed head.

When Mitch blinks, he’s face to face with the Doctor who has now bowed his head and let his wrist go, near nose to nose with Mitch who finally lets one side of his lips curl up in a lopsided smile. “Herman.” He murmurs again,  surer of himself as his hands come up to cup Herman’s cheeks. Feeling the heat of electricity radiating off his body, the dried blood under his fingertips, and how dry his skin was.

A man of few words, Mitch doesn’t feel the need to ask if this is where Herman had gone, if this is where he’d been taken, he doesn’t feel the need to cry either. It was as if he knew one day they’d be together again. Even if Herman was wielding a scary looking weapon and was clearly no longer human.

“ _ My dear _ ,” Echos into Mitch’s mind suddenly like a click, a voice he’s familiar with, cooing the pet name so fondly as a hand comes to rest on Mitch’s waist. “ _ You’ve still insisted on wearing the sweater vest? _ ”

It’s such a playful thing to say that it makes Mitch choke out a laugh, affectionately nudging his forehead on Herman’s chin in a gentle bonk. “And you tear off arms of lab coat like animal?” His reply is thick with his accent, his voice hoarse from lack of use since he’d come to this realm. The response he gets in turn from Herman is that haunting laugh, shrill and high like multiple voices.

Herman tries to grab at his waist again to toy with the vest, but Mitch takes a step back, out of arms reach and watches as Herman watches him hungrily. A familiar and old look that meant he knew what Mitch was up to.

Mitch, in life, had been a huge tease. Liking to rile Herman up, tease him until Herman would shove him up against a wall and snarl about having his way with him. Similarly, Mitch could be very forward, insisting on taking what he wanted. With much consent on both ends, of course.

But a little roleplay after so much time apart certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“You want off?” Mitch hums, letting a grin blossom onto his face as playfulness sparkles in his eyes. “Take.” 

Herman’s eyes spark to life at that, the laugh that seemed to echo through both mind and reality itself leaving him as he takes his rod and smacks it twice against the palm of his other hand. 

“ _ As you wish, little thing _ .”

\--

The chase begins after Mitch darts around the corner and begins running in a seemingly aimless direction. He’s run killers before, sure, but those were guesses of where to go. In a place he was familiar, with his husband of all people on his tail, it felt like there was no escape. He can feel the heat creeping on his back each time, can hear the laughter that follows it. When a shock is surged through him, he doesn’t scream like the others might, instead he only stutters his steps to gasp as  red hot pleasure shoots up his body.

Well, that was an accidental side effect. Or perhaps an ability? He was unsure of what his ‘abilities’ were when he arrived, the other survivors said they found out in due time.

What a treat to conflict with the person of his affections.

Mitch finds himself running towards the other end of the institute, dodging around any running generators he hears despite knowing that the others will merely think he’s going to get caught. He taunts and teases the entire time, curling around walls and darting back around Herman just to hear him growl in frustration and chase him again.

By the time Mitch turns another corner, he finds himself in an office. The window is busted out, tinted glass on the ground. The desk has papers strewn all across it, filing cabinets left open and a chair spun out of the way. A couch with a fake plant rests in one corner, worn down from use and made of leather.

Nostalgia hits him quicker than he can think to turn around because it was a dead end. And it seems he’s been caught.

A hand grabs his wrist, curling fingers into the bone there and slamming Mitch back against the wall. A strong body fits against his own like a missing puzzle piece, knocking his glasses askew as a gasp escapes his lips. A powerful thigh nudges his legs apart, forced between them as well as his caught wrist thrust above his head and effectively pinning him.

“ _ You have always liked riling me up _ .” The voice echoes through his head tauntingly, the grind of a thigh between Mitch’s legs making his breath hitch and eyes flutter. “ _ Do you wish to do this while my goal is to ensure you do not leave? _ ”

Quite the point, Mitch thinks to himself, but he knew Herman would never hold that rod against him until he had his fill. A little blood never hurt anyone, and Mitch doesn’t mind the idea of failing his own little survival mission if it meant his husband would not get punished. 

Perhaps Mitch was a glutton for punishment as is. But if it was a punishment his husband could give him? Oh, he’d like nothing more.

So, he hums his approval with a little nod of his head, a smile crossing his face before fading to parted lips and a gasp when the thigh grinds up once again. Rocking him and making his own hips squirm. His free hand comes up to make a half assed push against Herman just to rile him up further, succeeding when he drops his weapon to snatch Mitch’s other wrist and slamming him against the wall.

Mitch’s lashes flutter, eyes falling to Herman’s mouth that’s split into a grin from the headgear. The need to kiss him is strong, the need to completely overtake his mouth and remember his taste- strong of coffee- lingering on the tip of his tongue. He has a feeling the headgear is screwed into place, so he offers a soft whine and a murmur of, “I wish I could kiss you.”

It’s the softest thing he’d say or do tonight. Herman matching with a soft, gentle press of their foreheads together. Something that perhaps would ruin the mood for any other couple who hadn’t had similar scenarios like this play out. It’s soft affection, probably the gentlest Herman has had in so long.

The thought makes Mitch’s heart constrict. Surely Herman was in his sadistic element, that much he could understand. But where was his pause? His reprieve?

Mitch’s breath fans across his face and at  first, they just soak in the company together. Gentle, quiet, a pause in the storm they would soon create.

But the click of a generator starting makes both of them revive.

Mitch is first to move, pulling his head back and reeling it forward to knock Herman back in a short distanced headbutt. It only serves to make the Doctor grunt, leaning back and tightening his grip as he comes right back forward to get into Mitch’s personal space. Mitch’s victorious grin is soon wiped from his face as he’s thrown to the floor. Forced to his knees with a hand sliding into his hair and threatening with gentle static that he’d get his brain fried if he put up a fight.

Not that he would, of course. They both know that. Because if anyone were looking, you couldn’t see. But Mitch sees the way Herman tilts his head, a quiet question that Mitch nods to. Yes, he wanted this,  yes, he liked it.

Mitch grins once more as he’s on his knees, scooting closer and nosing at the bulge below Herman’s belt buckle. The hand in his long hair, fisting his ponytail presses him forward so he can rub his cheek shamelessly against the tent with a longing sigh.

“Sorry,” Mitch murmurs adoringly, reaching up to help undo the Herman’s belt with practiced ease. Sliding his fingers down to his button and fly, undoing it with a bit of clumsiness with the shakiness of his hands. He bites his lip to stop a grin from happening when Herman grunts in confusion. “For escaping you.”

It’s a taunt. The way he says it as he flutters his lashes up at Herman to hint that he could have totally evaded him and won this round. He lets a grin creep onto his face as he hooks his underwear and pants down to mid-thigh, seeing how Herman is already half hard.

He always had such a pretty cock. Seven, verging on eight inches with a curved lean upwards. The head is bulbous, foreskin covering the sensitive lower glans and making the head shiny and flushed dark pink from arousal. In life he would have been shaved, and it seems it stayed the same in the realm as well with the smooth flesh revealed.

“ _ I have almost had enough of your petulant teasing. Are you going to show you are sorry? _ ” Herman’s voice rings in his head pleasantly, a low growl with his voice deepened in arousal. Fingers twist in Mitch’s ponytail, thrusting him forward until his mouth brushes against Herman’s cock.

Immediately to work, he presses hot kisses on the underside. Letting his tongue loll out to lick a warm, flat stripe from the underside to the head where he presses sloppy kisses. He moans when he  licks up the precum, making sure Herman’s watching as he peers up at him from on his knees as he takes his cock into his mouth. At  first, he just suckles on the head, letting the familiar weight settle and hearing pleased grunts above him and soft growls. It almost sounds like an animal.

It’s when Herman has had enough does Mitch start to scramble at his thighs. His ponytail is held taut as Herman fucks his mouth, making good usage of Mitch’s throat as he controls his gag reflex. His lashes flutter, eyes welling up with tears as his fingers clasp onto Herman’s pants at his thighs, eyes near rolling back into his skull as his throat is fucked.

Each lengthened thrust, where Herman holds himself just a bit longer, makes him whimper. Feeling himself strain in his own pants as filthy words bleed into his head. “ _ Look at you, little one. Keep up your practice? _ ” “ _ Good boy, you look at home down there. _ ” “ _ I can see how much you like it. _ ”

At the last one, Herman adjusts to press the sole of his dress shoe on the front of Mitch’s pants just to hear him sob out through his nose and jerk his hips into his touch. So sensitive.

Finally, Herman pulls from his throat, yanking Mitch’s head back and letting him pant for air. He looks so pretty with his throat exposed, lips flushed and parted, lips shiny from saliva and some drool spilling down his chin. A filthy mess. A mess that Herman can’t help but grab the chin of, pressing his thumb to his lips just to watch Mitch greedily suckle at his thumbpad.

“ _ Insatiable as always, my love. _ ”

Another generator goes off and Herman is guiding Mitch to stand. Mitch tugs at Herman to come closer, bringing them to his desk so Mitch can lie on his stomach on top and let Herman tug at his pants. Lubricant possibly was something they would have needed in the institute for either any gear or keeping an area slick for suction cups, a bottle of which is found in Herman’s coat.

Prep is easy enough with how needy Mitch is. His cock is pressed to the desk flat, kind of hanging between his legs and twitching helplessly against the wood as Herman’s fingers work him open. The entire time Mitch squirms and sighs, his cock jerking and spilling some precum in a heavy, sticky drop that leaves a brief string leading from his cock to the floor that snaps under gravity.

By the time Mitch is stretched enough, and even  then maybe not even enough, just when he starts to get antsy. Herman slicks himself up and pushes inside with a grunt from his chest, Mitch matching with a low moan into his arms that he has crossed under his head. A swear in his native tongue croons out when Herman’s hips are flush with his ass, another sigh leaving him when Herman’s grabbing his ass firmly and spreading him apart just to see where they’re connected.

Herman is quick to start a decent pace, making Mitch make soft sounds, digging his nails into the desk as soft sighs leave him. A hand slides up his waist to press to the curve of it, as if  caressing him. And it would be sweet, but it’s not what he wants.

“You can do better than that, yes?” Mitch taunts, rolling his hips into the next thrust and hiding a grin in his arm when he hears a growl. A smack to his ass draws a soft moan from him, but he hides it with a laugh. “C’mon, be good boy, harder.”

The ‘good boy’ makes Herman huff behind him, this little embarrassed sound Mitch was so in tune with. Herman sure knew how to talk pretty and gave off an aura of dominance, but they both knew who led the relationship.

Immediately Herman obeys, picking up pace, fucking him harder as electricity curls up Mitch’s body where Herman’s hands touch. Mitch whines in return, his hips pressing back eagerly, practically humping the edge of the desk for some sort of stimulation to his neglected cock.

Each slam into his ass makes Mitch’s soft taunting turn into moans. Another generator clicks on and Herman gets practically frantic to fuck into him. Animalistic with his grunts and growls, occasionally laughter seeming to escape him as if he can’t help it. When Mitch opens his mouth to coo at him, he yelps when his ponytail is caught again.

Herman yanks him to stand practically upright. Forcing Mitch’s back to his chest as he fucks into him. Herman’s hand leaves his hair to wrap loosely around his neck, static threatening his fingertips as his other hand shoves down to jerk Mitch off. In Mitch’s head is an echo of things, all seeming to intertwine with each other like too many voices trying to talk to him at once. Conflicting possessive with praise. 

_ “You’re mine.” “I adore you.” “You’re mine to ruin, little thing.” “I’ve missed you.” “You’re going to cum on my cock like the pathetic thing you are.” “Let me see you lose it, my dear.” _

The stimulation and  echoes are too much. Mitch feels the final push he needs and he’s  cumming with a cry, one of his hands grabbing Herman’s wrist that rests near his throat. His other hand coming back to grip Herman’s hip and forcing him to stay close as Herman  cums inside of him with a snarl. Cumming with Herman’s hand jerking off the base of Mitch’s shaft, Mitch’s dick jerks almost freely, cumming onto the desk, partially onto his own shirt and the papers left askew on the floor.

Mitch pants heavily against Herman’s body, feeling the strain on his neck relaxing and the almost violent whispering shushing in his mind.

There’s a careful sort of way Herman pulls out. But then something is being shoved into Mitch again and at  first he whines in a muffled protest before relaxing when coos in his mind tell him to. 

A plug is pressed into him to keep the cum inside. Herman helps him with his pants, patting his ass fondly as if mocking him in turn before another click of a generator happens. The gong of the bell alerting that gates could be opened perks Mitch’s ears, but not as much as the laughter behind him and the creeping feeling of  electricity .

“ _ Run, little rabbit. Before I decide to see  _ _ what _ _ your insides look like. _ ”

No, the Entity’s realm was not made for lovers.

But, maybe lovers with a twisted sense of humor.


End file.
